


Creatures of the Korath

by KatiraPathara



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Caring, Gen, Injury, Korath desert, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Monster Slaying, Short One Shot, Swordplay, not a sarlacc pit I swear, sand creature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 15:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18143939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatiraPathara/pseuds/KatiraPathara
Summary: When Yennefer needs rare ingredients for one of her potions, she sends Geralt and Ciri into the desert to get them. Needless to say, it's never as easy as it sounds.





	Creatures of the Korath

Dry grass and hot sand stretched on for miles without a hint of shade.  Sweat rolled down the back of Ciri’s neck leaving itching trails of salt that crusted on the edges of her leather and ring-mail vest. Even at the edges of the Korath Desert, heat rolled over them in heavy waves. Foam bubbled around their horse’s bits. They needed water, and soon.

Geralt pulled Roach to a stop and shielded his eyes against the piercing sun. With his other hand he pointed toward a dark smudge in the distance. “There, is that what we’re looking for?”

Ciri squinted. It had been years since she’d been here and if Geralt hadn’t insisted, she would never have returned. However, Yennifer needed the liver and adrenals of one of those horrible sand creatures, said they were vital for her research. Despite their differences over the years, Ciri knew how much Geralt cared for Yen, he’d do anything for her.

In the distance, distinct depressions in the sand marked the series of lairs along the edge of the wash. Ciri dismounted and patted her horse’s neck. “Yes. we’re here. We better leave the horses here.” She studied the lines of grime from the long dusty ride crossing her palm. “Or even better, I could push them through a portal back to Toussaint where they could cool off and have a drink.”

Geralt gave a small laugh through his nose and shook his head. “No one likes a show off. But go ahead, if something happens to them it’ll be a long walk home.”

Ciri approached the first of the sandy depressions along the wash with quiet gentle steps. One wrong move too close to the edge, and she’d slide in. She’d nearly become lunch for one of those nasty creatures before, when she didn’t know what they were. It was an experience she wasn’t eager to repeat. 

The depression was large, measuring at least eight wide paces across. Small bones of desert rabbit, and a few larger ones Ciri wasn’t sure of littered the steep slope. At the base of the pit, a single slender antenna poked through the sand alongside a slender line of shining black, marking the top edge of one of the deadly pinsers. 

Geralt squatted and tossed a thumb tip sized stone into the hole where it bounced off the black carapace. The creature shifted, causing the sand around it to slide and shift. “At least they’re not venomous. That makes it easier.”

“They’ll still snap off our legs if we’re not careful. Yennifer won’t forgive either of us if that happens.” Ciri uncoiled a rope from around her shoulder and proceeded to tie it into a harness that would fit snugly around her hips. “I don’t like this plan. There’s still time to hunt a rabbit to use as bait.”

Ciri handed Geralt the other end of the rope and he tugged it between his gloved hands. 

“A rabbit can’t use a sword. You, on the other hand, could probably handle this thing by yourself.” He passed the rope behind his back and removed the slack between them. “But you have me, so might as well make it easy.”

Ciri gave the rope a playful yank, hoping to pull him off balance, just once. She’d never succeeded before, and she didn’t succeed now. With his feet planted wide, he didn’t budge. He was as immobile as a tree.

“Easy?” She leaned forward over the edge, allowing her weight to sink into the harness and increasing the load on the rope behind her. “You’re not the bait.”

Her feet sank into the fine sand until it spilled into the tops of her boots. The creature shifted again, they had it’s attention now. She drew her steel blade from off her back and took another slow deliberate step forward. Knee deep in sand, she wouldn’t be able to dart away to avoid those massive pincers. Defeating this thing would depend on her sword and skill.

She slapped the sand in front of her with the flat of the sword. “Come on ugly, show yourself.” When nothing happened, she slapped at the sand again. This time the creature lunged forward, huge pincers snapping blindly forward, spindle legs churning the sand beneath it. Ciri’s first instinct was to scramble back up the slope, much like the frightened rabbits she’d seen fall in and be eaten before. 

Ciri was no rabbit, she was a trained and deadly Witcher girl. Fear would not get the best of her. As one pincer snapped toward her, she arched her torso out of the way and delivered a precise blow to the weak joint at its base, cutting halfway through. The sand creature reared back, hissing and flailing. Sand flew up from its windmilling legs. Ciri buried her face in her sleeve to keep from being blinded.

The pincers came at her again, wild, uncoordinated, and increasingly erratic. Ciri swiped and dodged, trying to strike another strong blow into the joint to sever it. With each move, she sunk deeper into the sand.

The creature scrambled forward, the damaged joint hindering its movements. Geralt heaved up on the rope, yanking her up out of the sand and back to an effective fighting distance. Ciri used the motion to add power to her slashing backstroke, removing the damaged claw. She then harnessed the momentum to circle around and sever the eyestalks.

The creature let out an enormous hissing screech, it’s remaining claw swung around like a great club. Ciri managed to duck out of the way for the first swipe, but the second struck her hard in the shoulder and ribs. The blow rattled her bones and knocked the breath from her. Her sword dropped from deadened fingers. From above, Geralt cursed loudly and hauled her up on the rope.

Geralt grabbed Ciri’s good arm and set her down next to him. ““You okay?” he asked as he studied her eyes for signs of concussion. 

The creature continued to shriek in the bottom of its pit, but made no attempt to crawl out.

Ciri took a cautious breath while gently touching at her ribs. “No breaks.” She then gingerly touched the edge of her smashed shoulder and clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. The force of the blow had popped the bone clean out of the socket. 

Geralt, always observant, took notice. “That’s going to need immediate attention. The sooner it’s fixed, the better.” 

Agreeing meant letting Geralt force the joint back into place. She trusted him with so much else, she could trust him with this. “Do it. Get it over with.”

He gently lifted her arm and the head of the misplaced bone twisted, making Ciri hiss through her teeth. “Take a deep breath in and when I tell you, let it all out.”

Ciri could only nod her reply as Geralt continued to guide her arm into position. She took a low steady breath. 

He watched carefully and adjusted his grip. “When you’re ready, try to stay relaxed as you breathe out.”

She let the held breath go in a rush. Geralt pulled her arm toward him in one steady confident motion. Lightning-like pain raced through her whole body before the bone popped loudly back into its socket. Once in place, the pain faded to a dull throb. The relief brought tears to her eyes.

“Guess I messed that up, didn’t I?” Ciri rolled her shoulder with a wince and flexed her hand. Feeling rushed back to her fingers in a rush of prickles.

“Nah. Deep sand makes it impossible to dodge anything. Should have pulled you up sooner.” He looked down into the pit. The creature rested at the bottom of its hole, exposed and quiet. “You mind if I finish it off?”

“Now that I’ve done the hard work? Sure. Go for it.” She nudged his ankle with her toe. “Grab my sword while you’re down there.”

Geralt laughed and shook his head as he circled the pit, steel sword drawn and ready. Without hesitation, he leapt into the pit, plunging the point of his sword through the blind creature’s head. He held fast to the hilt as the creature flailed in its death throes and then went silent.

He called up from the bottom of the pit. “Okay Witcher Girl, you still have to help me carve this thing up.”

“But I’m hurt.” Ciri pouted. Perhaps if she leaned into his good nature she could get out of helping with the distasteful task.

He hacked free the remaining club like pincer before muscling the creature onto its back. “God these things stink.” He gagged and spat into the sand. “Nice try. You wanted to come. Get down here.”

**Author's Note:**

> When it comes to reducing a dislocated shoulder, I imagine Geralt is an old pro. Heaven knows he's probably had his fair share.


End file.
